The Evil Within
by Lionora
Summary: COMPLETE! A daunting challenge from within forces the team to their limits and beyond. HC
1. When Caffeine Fails To Revive

**Disclaimer:** If you watch CSI:Miami carefully, you'll see the name Nora NOT included in the show credits. Neither does it appear on any of the scripts, books, or merchandise, or, for that matter, on any of the bank accounts where the money for said stuff goes. So what on earth would make you think I owned a single thing here? Still, sue me if you like, I crave the attention.

**Pairing:** If you watch CSI:Miami carefully, you'll notice your TV is threatening to burst into flames whenever H/C have one of their moments … It also does this whenever H/Y have one of THOSE moments, but for entirely different reasons. But in case you need it spelled out: You're now entering H/C zone!

**Rating:** PG-13, I think. Hey, what did you think the C in CSI stands for? If rating changes, I'll let you know.

**Archive:** Laeta, be my guest.

**Warning:** I know what you want. And you'll get it. But things like that take time to develop, so please don't hate me if I take my time getting them together. It might not start out like a steam train in full motion, but (just like a steam train) will gain momentum slowly but steadily.

**Summary:** "For all we know, it was someone in this building. Someone working at CSI."

**Dedicated to the entire H/C Yahoo Group! I love you guys!**

**The Evil Within**

**Chapter 1: When caffeine fails to revive**

When Calleigh entered CSI this morning, she was acutely aware of a subdued tension hanging in the air. It was nothing she could have put a finger on, nothing tangible – just the unquenchable feeling of something being amiss. The first thing she noticed to confirm this suspicion was Claudia not being on her place, leaving the reception desk unoccupied. In fact, the whole building seemed less occupied than was normal. Only a few lab techs were gathered in front of one of the interrogation rooms, looking pale. None of them was talking. When Calleigh passed them, bidding them a good morning, some muttered replies found their way to her, but no one seemed prepared to meet her eyes.

What was going on?

Confused, Calleigh decided to head straight to the break room for her usual early morning ritual of making coffee, before seeking out her colleagues to see if anything was going on she should be aware of. With the exception of Horatio, she was usually the first of the team to arrive in the mornings, and she had made it her business to provide the first dose of caffeine of the working day. The day had yet to come when Speed and Eric didn't gulp down a mug of the brown liquid as soon as they came in. They day had yet to come when they didn't look as if they really, really needed it, Calleigh thought with a private smile-

-which froze the instant she turned the corner.

Any actions related to brewing coffee would have to be postponed, she realized immediately.

At least she did no longer have to wonder about where everybody seemed to be today – because everybody seemed to be located right in front of her now.

There was a general bustle, people zooming in and out of the break room, wearing gloves and kits as if … as if they were processing a scene?

"Calleigh?"

Horatio made his way towards her. She had not even noticed him in her astonishment. Confused, she met his eyes. His expression was dead serious, but gave away nothing. Still the way his eyes glowed with suppressed anger was telling volumes. Something indeed was wrong.

"Horatio. What is going on?"

"We have …" he tilted his head, focusing on a spot near her shoulder, for some unfathomable reason avoiding eye contact, "… a situation."

"So I gathered," she informed him, all the while trying to look past him. Through the glass door she could see Tripp, wearing an unprecedented look of incredulity on his face. "What is going on?" She craned her neck to see what exactly was happening. "Are they taking the coffee pot away?"

"Who's taking the coffee pot away?" A slightly slurred voice came up behind Calleigh, belonging to one slightly disheveled Tim Speedle, whose question carried the faintest trace of panic. He was in the company of Eric, who managed to take in the scene around him with an expression ranging from sheer bewilderment to utter confusion in less than a second, before he decided to join the conversation.

"Hey H … What's the buzz?"

"Listen everyone, I want you in the conference room. I'll be there in a moment, but I can't leave this unsupervised right now. If IAB wants to talk to you, send them straight to me. Don't answer anything." Horatio's tone left no room for discussion.

"Sure thing," Eric conceded, and trotted off with Speed in tow. Calleigh made to follow them, but not without glancing at Horatio one more time. He only managed to hold her gaze for a second, before looking away again. He was concerned, she could tell.

But he was also deadly furious.

And why on earth would IAB be there?

~*~

"What was all that about?"

"Were they actually covering the break room like it was a scene?"

The team was gathered around the large table in the room used for meetings and briefings. While waiting for their boss to arrive, Speed and Eric could not resist going over the previous events. Both had chosen to lean on the wall opposite the entrance, their pointedly relaxed posture belying the serious undertones in their voices.

Calleigh had seated herself and stared at her friends and colleagues. They were right; the actions inside the break room had looked frighteningly similar to what would happen at a crime scene, once it had been discovered as such. But that did not make any sense.

"Why would IAB be here?" she asked, and got two elaborate shrugs in place of a reply. Speed gave an additional sigh and grabbed a chair next to her.

"This cannot be good," he stated the obvious.

Eric gave him a condescending look. "Thanks for mentioning it, you know, otherwise I would have thought they were preparing a party."

Before Speed got any chance of throwing back another rebuke, Calleigh intervened, "The way Horatio looked, we have trouble on our hands."

"Don't we always?" Speed asked, just as Horatio entered the room, holding the door open for Alexx and Detective Tripp. Obviously, he had overheard the last part of their musings.

"Not like this, gentlemen, not like this."

He positioned himself at the front of the table, but remained standing, while Alexx all but collapsed in the chair next to Calleigh, who immediately turned her attention to her friend. Alexx looked exhausted and … horrified? Calleigh could not quite identify the sentiment in her friend's eyes, but something had shocked her, that much was obvious.

"Alexx? What has happened?" she asked urgently, placing a hand on the ME's arm. Alexx just gave her a wary look and indicated Horatio, who was about to begin an explanation. His posture was taut and he avoided anyone's eyes. Somehow, seeing Horatio like this distressed Calleigh more than all the unexplained action back at the break room. _This is serious_ his body-language indicated. Still, he did not say a thing.

"Would you like me to explain the circumstances?" Tripp asked from the back of the room, where he had unobtrusively positioned himself.

Horatio still failed to look up from the pencil he was holding and inspecting as if it was the most amazing thing and needed his full concentration. He barely raised his eyebrows. "No, thank you, but this is something I'll have to do," he declined quietly.

Calleigh felt a rush of adrenaline surge through her body. In the past few years, she had come to know Horatio to a degree that sometimes made observers wonder about their connection. Fact was, she could see through his calm exterior at most times, figuring out what went on inside of him. But today, this was not even necessary. His careful composure was as thin-layered as could be. And having a quietly shaking Alexx seated right next to her was doing nothing to improve the heavy feeling of foreboding she was experiencing.

As Horatio began at last his voice sounded unusually distant. "At 5 a.m. this morning, I was called in to a scene. There were several people injured, one of whom has died in the meantime."

He paused briefly. Speed, too agitated to be patient, jumped at his chance, asking, "Why didn't night shift cover that?"

Finally, Horatio raised his eyes. The look he gave Speed would certainly have scared the younger man to death, had the fury in his boss's eyes been directed at him. "Night shift _was_ the scene."


	2. Facts No One Wants To Hear

A/N: Here's the 2nd part – see, I'm pulling this through. Don't expect the next part before Thursday or Friday, though. For disclaimers, etc. see chapter 1. Some words of warning: I've not been kind to the guys from night shift. I apologize for putting several fictitious characters through hell. It somehow just came out like this. Try to enjoy the read anyway.

**Chapter 2: Facts no one wants to hear**

This announcement was followed by a moment of stunned silence. Calleigh looked from Alexx to Horatio, but none was meeting her eyes.

"When I got here, two people had already collapsed. Five more have been transported to the hospital by now, one of whom has died. I called Alexx in for the post. We do not know what has happened yet, but we can safely assume that this was neither accident nor coincidence."

The last sentence hung in the air, and the meaning it carried was not lost on Calleigh. Instantly, she understood Horatio's fury and Alexx's desperation, and found both feelings mirrored in herself. Someone had attacked their colleagues, and in their own building at that. This place was the center of crime fighting in this city, and the people dedicating their lives to helping the victims should not fall prey to the very villains they pursued. Besides, something like this should have been completely impossible.

"But what exactly has happened?" Speed demanded.

"We're not sure. I can only give you the meager facts we have by now."

Aided by an occasional remark from Tripp, Horatio gave them an outline of the morning's events at the crime lab. Calleigh found herself getting jumpier by the minute as she listened to her boss recounting the gruesome details.

Night shift had started out with business as usual, it seemed. Nothing out of the ordinary. The lead investigators had been to scenes, leaving the crime lab to the techs. As the night progressed, some staff members had begun to complain about diffuse pain in their hands. Some had difficulty with their eyesight. Some would be unable to stand for extended periods. At the same time, they grew more confused and disorientated by the hour, until an ambulance had to be called in when one of the trace experts stumbled into a glass door and cut himself severely.

By the time the rescue team arrived, two more of the staff claimed to have lost all feeling in their lower limbs. By then the crime lab had turned into a nightmare, as ever more people began showing the same symptoms. Horatio, being head of the crime lab, had been called in.

"We have checked the obvious sources of pollution – like the air supply in the labs – but… ," he explained, "… in-house maintenance found nothing off the scales. And since not everyone in the building was affected, we can assume this has nothing to do with our ventilating system." He focused on each of them in turn, concluding, "It was deliberate."

Calleigh shuddered at the thought. Instinctively, she reached out and placed her hand on Alexx arm, mimicking her own comforting gesture when Alexx had first entered. This time, however, it was not only meant to console. She was reaching out for support.

Horatio continued stating facts no one wanted to hear. Tripp had been informed, and IAB had invited themselves along. Horatio's account on their behavior was rather monosyllabic, but Calleigh deducted from his tone that they had wasted no time and proceeded to give everyone hell. At about 8 a.m., one of the victims had died and Alexx' presence had been required. She had arrived only shortly before the rest of the team with the prospect of spending the morning doing a post on a colleague.

Horatio finished and another silence fell, just as oppressive as the one before.

Finally, Calleigh asked, "Who is working the case?"

Horatio cast a quick glance in her direction. "We are." He let a moment go by and Calleigh realized just how much this was affecting him. He regained his composure quickly, though. "Now, I want every room in this building processed, including every single lab and storage room. Anything that's out of place: treat is as evidence. We have a lot of work on our hands, and we'll need all the help we can get. Some of those from night shift who were left unharmed are helping us out; they're processing the break room right now. Alexx, I want you to start on the post. Eric, you begin with the DNA labs, Speed start at Trace. As far as I've been told, there were no shootings to be worked on and nobody was in the ballistics lab last night. I'll have someone go over it, but for now I want us to focus our energies on the places that were actually frequented. Calleigh, you and I will have a look at the victims' activities. Anything they did after entering this building. If there is the faintest connection between them, I want us to find it."

They all rose. Calleigh felt somehow numb inwardly. She looked at her friends. Eric and Speed seemed subdued, and Alexx – while doing her best to appear determined – had her jaws clenched.

As the ME was about to leave the room, Horatio called her back. "Alexx!"

"What is it?"

"Special attention to the tox screening."

"Of course."

"I'll try and keep IAB off your backs for a little longer," Tripp stated.

Horatio nodded his approval as Tripp exited after Alexx. Eric and Speed followed to get to their assigned tasks.

"Where do we start?" Calleigh asked, looking at Horatio, putting more confidence in her voice than she felt.

"By retracing every single step of the victims. They were poisoned inside this building, and we need to find the source of that poison."

"Hopefully the tox screen will tell us what we're dealing with."

Horatio sighed. "I doubt it. Looking for poisons in an organism is usually not very successful."

"Not after several hours of metabolism," Calleigh agreed. "But maybe the symptoms can give us some clues on what we're dealing with. If Alexx can determine what the ultimate cause of death was …" She trailed off.

Horatio nodded silently, as if he didn't trust his voice any more than was strictly necessary. The case was affecting everyone, but for Horatio, Calleigh knew, it was personal. Most of the time she couldn't help adore his concern for his co-workers, but right now she feared his care's destructive qualities. Hesitatingly, she reached out and patted his arm.

"This is a hard case for all of us," she told him.

He did not miss a beat. "It's harder for those on night shift."

"Why did you even let them help work the case after the night they've been through?"

Horatio locked his eyes on hers. "They insisted. It is our investigation … but it was their friends."

To be continued ….


	3. Aggravation

A/N: On we go … and worse it gets … 

To the members of the H/C Yahoo group: I've started posting this over on the group message list as well, so you can read & review this fic there. Once I've synchronized both sites, I'll update simultaneously :)

**Chapter 3: Aggravation**

Speed cursed. This task was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. When he had started processing the labs, he had imagined it would be easier than usual. Not as far as the case itself was concerned – the heinous assault was affecting everyone. But for once, they were covering a crime scene they were familiar with. Speed knew where everything was supposed to be, and if he didn't, there were plenty of people he could ask. And reliable people at that, as opposed to witnesses scared out of their minds or witnesses doing their darnedest to hide their involvement. It should have been easy for a change.

It was harder than ever.

Horatio had assigned him the processing of the trace labs, and Speed sure knew his way around there. Still, he came up empty. No surface he dusted yielded any prints (not surprising, he thought, as everyone would be wearing gloves in here), no chemical was out of place, nothing was missing.

Nothing had been added, either.

There were no fibers, fluids or blood spatter, as with almost every other crime scene he had been to in his life. No bullet wounds to take pictures of, no casings, no mystery residues. He collected the occasional hair and took some pictures of footprints, but even while doing so he was willing to bet his Ducati on the fact that they belonged to people who had every right and reason to be there.

Plus he had completely underestimated the strain of working this scene. This was the place he retreated to once the gruesome stuff was done, to sort out what had happened and help those who had been wronged. It was not the place to open up the kits and, heck, _do_ the gruesome stuff.

In a foul mood, he carried on, pointless as his efforts seemed.

And he could not even go and grab a coffee.

~*~

"So do we know who the victims are?"

"Yes," he answered, "everyone's accounted for."

They were seated opposite each other in one of the interrogation rooms, folders and files piled on the table between them. Horatio had suggested they set up camp in one of the rooms that had already been processed by the few remaining from night shift, and Calleigh had agreed. It was the logical choice.

As the ballistics lab had not been in use the preceding night, it was unlikely any of the victims had picked up any toxic substance there. There were plenty of alternatives, though, and it was up to Calleigh to help figure them out. But in order to find out which of their well-intended actions had doomed her co-workers, she would first have to have a look into victimology. See who had been affected and then work out why.

Which was exactly what she dreaded.

When Horatio handed her the list of names, she did not want to look at it. He noticed her apprehensive gaze and refused to let go of the piece of paper, causing her to look up puzzled.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice so low she had to lean in to hear him. They were still holding the sheet of paper between them, each clinging to one corner of the dreaded list, causing the sad record of names to hover in mid-air. 

Deciding it was useless to try anything but the honest approach with Horatio, she simply replied, "No." Tugging the sheet out of his hand she added, "But neither are you." She ignored the startled expression on his face and straightened the file in front of her. They were all going to go through hell before this case was solved, and she was not going to watch Horatio take care of everyone but himself on the way. This was too much weight to put on any single person's shoulders, even if that person happened to have access to seemingly unlimited sources of strength. She had relied on him more often than she could have recounted now. Not this time, though. This case was enough to break any of them, and she couldn't simply stand back and watch Horatio take all the hardship onto himself.

He didn't answer. Just watched her stupefied, his lips slightly parted as if a riposte did not quite find its way to her.

She ignored him pointedly. It wasn't every day you caught Horatio Caine at a loss for words. It proved she had made her point, so she decided to leave it at that and go back to business.

She gave the list a quick scan. The names were familiar, naturally. Forcing herself not to conjure up the faces that went with them, she remarked, "Seven victims. Three male, four female. Two computer experts from the data recovery unit, two trace experts, three DNA techs. Age is ranging from 25 to 42. Do they have anything in common at all?"

Horatio recovered swiftly and focused his attention to the task at hand. "Not at first sight. Except, of course, for the undeniable fact that they all work at CSI."

"Are you saying they were not targeted for who they were, but for what they did?"

"I'm saying it does not look like pre-selection of victims to me. We will know more, however, once we compared their activities during the night."

"If it was a general attack on CSI, we should look into that for motive," Calleigh suggested.

Horatio raised his eyebrows. "Good thinking…"

"Do I sense an unspoken but?"

"But … so far, we have no signs of forced entry. Considering the security protocols we have in place…"

"You're not saying this was an inside job, are you?"

"I'm just pointing out the lack of evidence for an intrusion. So, for all we know, it was someone in this building. Someone working at CSI."

His voice was steady and calm as he said the words – but Calleigh was not fooled. The way he was avoiding everyone's eyes today, so that no one would see the hurt and anger in them, the way he had instantly switched into protective mode when she had displayed the faintest signs of insecurity – his composure was a delicate affair right now.

She was shaken to the core herself. It was bad enough someone had assaulted CSI, but the offense would be infinitely aggravated if one of their co-workers had committed the deed. It was not imaginable, actually.

She shook her head, the gesture the physical equivalent of shaking off a terrifying notion. Without another word said on the topic, they began to file through the events of the previous night, trying to sort out who did what and when – and why that had brought harm to them.

~*~

"Any luck?"

Calleigh looked up. She had not noticed anyone approaching the interrogation room. She and Horatio had been completely absorbed in their work. They had been trying to retrace the steps of the victims for hours, not even noticing the time passing. They had collected statements from everyone on night shift, before Horatio had finally sent them home. So far, there was nothing fishy about the victims' activities.

Seeing Eric stand in the doorway, Calleigh gave him a quick smile. The smile was meant to encourage, but there was no genuine joy in it.

"We have successfully established that everyone was where they were supposed to be," she told him, "We still have to talk to the victims as soon as they can give us any statements, though."

"You'd better not get your hopes up too high on that," he said dimly.

Alerted, Horatio raised his head and studied the younger man intently. "Eric? What is it?"

"Alexx wants you to come over. She's not too happy with the results from the post. She's not finished yet, but she wanted to tell you something straight away."

A shadow fell on Horatio's face, and one settled on Calleigh's heart.

"Okay," he said in a low voice, "Calleigh, can you sort through the statements from the DNA technicians?" She nodded, and he continued, "Good. Eric, do you have anything for me?"

"No such luck. Speed's come up empty so far as well. But we're not finished."

"Keep going," he ordered darkly. Then, turning to Calleigh, added, "I'll be right back," and left to see what Alexx had for him.

"How's he doing?" Eric demanded as soon as his boss was out of sight.

"You know what he's like," Calleigh answered elusively. Truly he did. Having been the first to be recruited by Horatio, Eric had worked with him for longer than anyone else on the team.

"He's taking it personally." It wasn't a question.

Calleigh gave a sigh in place of an answer. "He's not going to rest before this matter is settled," Eric predicted.

"I know," she agreed flatly.

Eric gave her a sideways glance. "What about you?"

She shrugged. "It's hard, but I'm holding up." One of us has to, she thought. And Horatio seemed to be unraveling fast.

~*~

"Okay. What am I looking at?"

"Evan Taylor's brain. Or what used to be his brain, to be more precise."

"Hmm… That does not look good."

"It isn't," Alexx confirmed, moving from the steel dish that held the discolored brain to the slab where its former owner was lying. She bent down and placed a gloved hand on the young man's hair. "It didn't look like that when you were starting out last night, did it? You were just trying to get the bad guys, and look at what got you."

Horatio had to turn away. He could not bear Alexx' tender manner with corpses today, not when the deceased was someone who had been murdered while technically under his supervision.

"Brain damage?" he prompted, desperate to get her attention back.

"You bet. And look at those." She led him around the slab and pointed out the victim's hand and feet. They were red and shiny, and there were ugly patches where the skin was peeling off. Alexx moved on to pry Evan's eyes open. Reddened and somehow too watery.

Giving her boss a grave and reproachful look, Alexx stated, "Have you already talked to the other victims?"

"Not yet."

"Horatio, whatever substance we're dealing with, it's affecting the brain and central nervous system. And the effects are delayed after initial exposure, from what the witnesses have told us." There was no need for her to go on.

"You're saying we haven't seen the worst of this yet."

"I'm saying the effects take time to aggravate. And as long as we don't know what exactly they have been dosed with, I can't estimate reversibility."

"Meaning we should question the other victims as long as we still can," Horatio concluded, his voice monotone, devoid of emotion.

Alexx nodded silently.

"Okay. Keep going here." And gone he was.

It had not escaped Alexx' notice that Horatio had acknowledged the deceased as little as possible. Well, she didn't have a choice, so she turned back to the victim. She was the only one who could speak for Evan Taylor now, and so she would.

To be continued …


	4. Closing In

Disclaimers, dedication, etc.: see part 1

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. It means the world to me if you  
like it. I promise some serious H/C action in the very near future  
(next chapter), but please be patient for just a little bit longer…  
Oh, well, look who's talking ... I can hardly wait for it myself,  
and I'm writing the thing ...

**Chapter 4: Closing In**

"We've already established that no one noticed anything crassly out of the ordinary. But we have just started out. If you could just tell me exactly what you did last night, it will really help", Calleigh explained to the young woman in the hospital bed.

Horatio had all but hauled her out of headquarters half an hour ago, telling her they'd have to get the victims' statements ASAP. On the way to the hospital, he had filled Calleigh in on the latest developments. She had not been able to suppress a shudder when he had pointed out the possibility of worse scenarios that were yet to come. They had passed the rest of the drive in silence, but Calleigh had secretly watched him while his attention was focused on the street. At least the truth would be found out, and whoever did this would be held responsible. Looking at Horatio with his clenched jaws and his determined chin, the embodiment of silent righteous rage, there could be no doubt about that.

They had split up at the hospital to talk to the victims. Calleigh had already tried, and failed, to question Mendy Barton and Peter Atkins, both of whom were in no shape to be subjected to any interviews yet. Now she was standing next to the bed of Katherine Douglas, a young lab technician and DNA expert with a pale face and dark shadows under her eyes, with trembling hands and tear-streaked cheeks.

She grabbed a chair and pulled it to the side of the bed. "Did you have anything to eat at headquarters?"

Katherine Douglas sighed, shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. Pressing her fingers to her temples, she gathered all her concentration before answering.

"I checked in and went right to work on a couple of samples that had just come in. We needed to match DNA from different samples, and it was rather complicated," her voice was shaky, constantly threatening to crack.

"How so?"

"I had to get the DNA from a tooth brush. I wasn't even sure whether it would work, whether there'd even be any material on the brush to work with and I couldn't just do automatic PCR because the number of cycles was not sufficient for amplification."

"So what did you do?"

"Reset the Lightcycler and went through the cycles manually."

Calleigh nodded in understanding. "So you were quite wrapped up in your work?"

Katherine pressed her hands against her eyes and gave a short nod. "I wouldn't have noticed anything, if that's what you're getting at." Calleigh could not help but stare at the peeling skin on her hands. How on earth could Katherine not have realized the exact moment of something like this happening?

"And you never left the lab?"

"No, I didn't want to risk ruin the samples. Mendy teased me about it. She said I should let the enzymes do the work and that the Taq-Polymerase wouldn't work any faster with me standing next to it." Tears welled up in her eyes, and Calleigh had to swallow.

"I'm sure Mendy will be alright," she offered weakly. It had not looked that way when she had tried to talk to her, though. The woman had sported angry red bruises on her hands and feet where her skin was peeling off. Her eyes had been red and swollen, and she had been muttering incoherent thoughts. She had never acknowledged Calleigh's presence. 

"We were close, you know?" Katherine sobbed, "We would work next to each other in the lab, and talk about our lives, our families, things like that. We never even met outside the lab, but she still is one of the dearest people in my life. It was one of those friendships that form at work and continue to grow, if you know what I mean."

The image of Horatio popped up in Calleigh's head, and she nodded.

Katherine went on, "She would constantly tease me, say that I was fussing about samples, but it's just her way of showing she cares. She brought me coffee every time I got tired and refused to leave my samples alone."

Calleigh's head shot up. "Did she bring you coffee last night?"

"Yes. I was too anxious about the timing of the thermal cycles to go to the break room, so she got me a mug of coffee. I drank it in the hallway right in front of the lab."

"At exactly what time was that?"

Comprehension dawned in Katherine's eyes at the unspoken suspicion. "You're not thinking Mendy had anything to do with this? She would never … never!"

"I still need you to tell me everything about it," Calleigh insisted. Maybe Mendy Barton had not poisoned the coffee. But maybe *someone* had.

~*~

As soon as they left the hospital building, Horatio put on his sunglasses. They had spent most of the day questioning their colleagues, and there was already a hint of dusk in the elongated shadows outside. Still he felt more comfortable with the small glass barrier between him and that hostile world. "Talk to me."

"Well we don't have much. The only one able to answer to me was Katherine Douglas."

"From DNA?"

"Yes. It seems she was on a difficult case and did not leave the lab much. There is something, though."

"That's what I wanted to hear."

"Well, she only left the lab once for about ten minutes to share a break and a cup of coffee with Mendy Barton. She had nothing else to eat or drink all night, so the coffee-"

"- is the only thing she ingested," Horatio finished for her.

"Exactly. And since the symptoms are rather grave I think we can rule out skin-absorbance."

"Good work," he acknowledged. They reached the Hummer and got into the car.

"What about you?" Calleigh demanded.

"Not much either. Florian Stevenson is still in shock."

"He the one who crashed into the glass door?"

"Hmm," he confirmed, "Vera Haskins had a difficult time answering questions, and Ellie Winsgate had nothing much to say either."

"But they all showed the same symptoms?"

"Yes. Peeling skin on hands and feet, burning eyes, dizziness, numbness in the lower limbs, loss of orientation and coordination," Horatio counted them off. "They all had different things to eat or drink while they were at headquarters, but we seem to have something on the coffee."

"They all had coffee last night?"

Horatio placed the key in the ignition and started the car. "Yes."

"So now-"

"-we need to make a call."

~*~

"Still nothing?"

"Not a single cell out of place." Speed stretched and ran a hand through his hair. "It's driving me nuts," he sighed.

Between them, they had dusted, fluoresced and categorized every lab, storage and interrogation room, but to no avail. Now the daylight was fading outside, and they had nothing but a pointless day to look back on.

"Calleigh just called."

"She and H still at the hospital?"

Eric shrugged, "She didn't say. They seem to have a lead, though."

Speed's face fell. "No way!"

"Yes way."

"Now that's just great," Speed commented sarcastically.

"Huh?"

"I've been crawling all over those tiled floors for the last eight hours and have not found so much as a misplaced piece of dust. They get a clue on our crime without even having so much as a glance at the crime scene."

Eric failed to stifle a grin. "That's what distinguishes an average CSI from an extraordinary one, you know?"

"Ha ha!" Speed said without humor, "Just fill me in."  
"They want us to retrieve the evidence night shift collected from the break room and do a tox screen on the coffee pot and any related parts. Cups that have not been rinsed yet, used filters, anything."

"That will not help much unless we know what we're looking for."

"Yeah, but Alexx promised to have something a little more specific by tomorrow. H said to wait with the screening until then.  He said to finish up here and call it a day."

"Wait a minute," Speed looked confused, "I thought you said it was Calleigh who called."

"Don't ask," Eric answered cryptically. "They had some kind of argument along the call. Calleigh covered the phone, so it was all kind of muffled. Next thing I know, H is on the phone, telling me they would not be checking back in today and he'd see us tomorrow for a status report."

"Weird," Speed commented.

"I'll second that."

To be continued … [not before the weekend, though :)]


	5. Carrying On

A/N: Disclaimers, ratings, and all the other formal stuff: See part 1.

This chapter is rather H/C-centric (I think we're slowly getting there *g*), tell me how I'm doing with them. I thought this part would be hard to write, but my muse had a good day, apparently. Any feedback on this will be taken seriously into consideration :)

Speaking of which, several people have told me that I'm doing very angsty stuff here. I agree, but I blame it on my muse. She told me that sometimes a catastrophe can be a catalyst, and since I liked the alliteration, I let her have it her way. Can't argue with a muse, now can you?

**Chapter 5: Carrying On**

Horatio refused to look at her. She had scored a small victory in defying his stubborn resistance, and he was none too happy about it.

When Calleigh had called Eric to fill him in on the coffee angle, Horatio had intently listened to her part of the conversation. Upon her saying that they would check back in soon, he had failed to hide a small negating movement of his head. This had caused her to cover the phone and look at him.

"We're not going back to the lab?" she had asked.

"You are. I'm going to drop you off."

When he had ventured no further information, she had persevered. "Well, what about you?"

"I have … ahm … another aspect of this case to consider." He had kept his eyes locked on the traffic in front of them, as if maneuvering their huge vehicle safely through the city demanded his full concentration. Calleigh had not been fooled, though. He only ever became this evasive when something was affecting him deeply at a personal level. And there was one "aspect of this case" which would have been most heart-wrenching to someone less empathetic than Horatio Caine.

"You're going to go see Evan Taylor's family." It had not been a question.

She had gotten an answer nonetheless, in the tightening of his jaws, and in the short flicker of unguarded emotion in his eyes. He was going to go see his dead colleague's wife and offer every comfort imaginable while taking all the more guilt and sadness onto himself.

"I'm coming with you," she had informed him, the decision being reached in mere seconds.

"No, you're not," he had said softly.

Instead of an answer, she had held up the cell phone again. "Eric, you still there? Good, listen, we will-"

"Calleigh, give me that phone," he had interrupted her. His voice had been low, but commanding nonetheless. "Give it to me."

She had put Eric on hold once more, while Horatio had pulled the Hummer over to one side of the road. Once they had come to a complete standstill, he had finally turned and looked at her. He'd been looking sad, but in control, his voice still low but steady.

"It is my duty to go there. He was working for me."

"It is not your duty to do this alone," she had clarified quietly, wondering if this was his way of punishing himself for not being there when his crimelab had been attacked. People had leaned on him for comfort frequently, and he had never once failed to deliver. Why would he not allow her to share the grief and the guilt and lean on her for a change? No one was destined to carry the world's anguish alone. Somehow, suddenly, she longed to say these things aloud, but was held back by the distance in his eyes.

So, in a futile attempt to lighten the mood, and to keep her heart from breaking for him, she had added, "Face it, you're not getting rid of me," sounding considerably more lighthearted than she had felt.

Instead of an answer he had reached for the phone she had still been holding. Their fingers had touched a little longer than was strictly necessary for transferring the mobile from one to the other, and he had continued to hold her eye while speaking to Eric.

"Eric? It's me. Wait for the results of the tox screen, then do a counter-check with the coffee maker once you have a clue what we're looking for. Have you finished processing the labs? … Good, do that, then call it day. We'll see you tomorrow for a status report … No, we're not checking back in … Just finish the processing, Eric."

He had disabled the connection and handed the phone back to her. Without another word said, he had slowly navigated the Hummer back into the moving traffic.

He had never once taken his eyes off the roads again, apparently not too happy about how things had turned out.

But from the way he had looked at her while talking to Eric, and from the way the tension was gradually fading from his taut posture, she could tell. He was grateful for her coming along.

~*~

Maria Taylor sat on the sofa and clutched a pillow to her. It was obvious she been crying for hours, but now her eyes were dry and she looked exhausted to the point of fainting.

She had allowed them to come in when they had shown up at her front door, but had not offered them a seat. She had simply slouched down on the sofa, grabbed a pillow and stared blankly ahead.

"A police officer was here already," she was just saying, her voice a monotone, "Told me everything that has happened."

Horatio went to sit next to her, placing his hand on hers. "What Detective Tripp did not tell you is that we already have a lead on who did this." His voice was calm and soothing, and managed to get through to Maria.

"You do?" There was the faintest spark of hope in her voice as she looked up at him.

Calleigh did not know how he managed to gather the strength to smile reassuringly at the young widow.

"Yes we do. I want you to know that we will get whoever did this, and he will pay for it."

She acknowledged this with a trembling sigh. "What about the others?"

"We don't know yet," Horatio answered truthfully. "But we will. And when we do, I'll let you know."

There was a moment of silence, then Maria spoke up again. "Evan loved his work, you know?" She smiled weakly. "He had always been crazy about computers, and when he got this job, he was so happy. It made him so proud … He would always tell me how he helped nailing the bad guys." Overwhelmed, she trailed off.

"He was very good at what he did," Horatio told her, and Calleigh loved him for it.

Suddenly, a faint sound came from across the hallway, and Maria stood up, immediately agitated. "That's my daughter, Carrie." Panic filled her voice. "I haven't told her yet. I don't want her to … I couldn't …"

She left the room quickly. Calleigh looked at an agonized Horatio. "I didn't know he had a child," she said quietly.

He gave a hardly visible nod. "She's three years old."

There was nothing Calleigh could have said in return to that. Another life had been extinguished before it was spent, and another broken family was left to cry about a future that would now never come to be. What was there to say?

When Maria returned, Horatio stood up. The young woman looked collected, but only barely so.

"Do you have someone to take care of you?" he asked.

She nodded. "My mother's flying in. She will be here tomorrow."

Horatio handed her his card and told her to call him whenever she needed someone. She glanced at the card.

"I wanted to thank you," she told him.

Horatio was taken aback. Startled, he blinked and looked at Maria questioningly. "Whatever for?"

"Evan spoke very highly of you. He said you really made people feel appreciated. And I know he loved working for you." She tried another weak smile. "I now know why."

~*~

Alexx stared at the sheet of paper in her hand. "You're kidding me!" she said to no one in particular.

"Yeah? What did I do?"

She spun around to see Speed stand in the doorway of the morgue. "Don't you ever sneak up on me like that again," she admonished gravely.

"Sorry," Speed shrugged, "You were rather absorbed in … what is that anyway?"

He walked up to her and tried to have a look at the paper.

"It's the results from the blood tests they did in the hospital."

"You mean on the other victims?"

"Yeah. I wanted to double-check with Taylor."

"And…"

She shook her head. "And it doesn't make much sense. We have a low concentration of hemoglobin and some other aberrations, but then again, any number of substances will cause that."

"So we still have nothing?" Speed asked incredulously.

Alexx gave him a reproaching look. "I'm not saying that. We'll know a great deal more once we've got Taylor's results. Whatever killed him has been there in large concentrations, and has left traces of its presence. And looking at this, I'm slowly getting the idea. Still, I would have expected something much more obvious, what with the symptoms."

Speed nodded. "H called. They seem to have something on the coffee. We're going to process the coffee maker and any remains of last night's caffeine consumption."

Alexx indicated the piece of paper in her hands. "I would like to tell you what to look for, but right now I can't. I will go over this again and have something for you in the morning."

Speed gave her a lop-sided grin and patted her arm. "You're the best."

As he turned to leave, Alexx called after him, "And don't forget that again."

~*~

It had not escaped Calleigh's notice that Horatio's mood had lightened considerably after the encounter with Maria Taylor and her comments about Evan's love of the job. When they had gotten back to the Hummer, Horatio had not started the engine right away. Instead, he had asked her how she was holding up, and she had returned the question. A short silence had followed.

"She does not blame you, you know?" Calleigh had told him out of the blue.

He had stared straight ahead, but she had seen a little smile play around the corners of his mouth. She knew this was exactly what he had been afraid of.

"Thank you," he had said, but it had been barely audible.

Calleigh had wanted to smile, but had not managed to stifle a yawn, or keep her stomach from growling. It hadn't escaped Horatio, either. Eyebrows raised, he had given her a questioning look.

"What? It's been a hard day," she had said apologetically.

He had seemed to consider this. "You haven't eaten all day."

"Well, I didn't exactly have access to my usual supply after they sealed the fridge in the break room. And anyway, neither have you."

He had joined her in her smile. After a moment, he had asked, "Feel like grabbing something on the way home?"

Calleigh had been startled, but had hardly considered the offer. "Sure," she had heard herself reply without even thinking about it.

And now she was leaning against the front of the Hummer, eating chicken show mein from a cardboard box. Horatio came to stand next to her, handing her a canned soft drink he had retrieved from the driver's cabin.

"Ah! Nothing like a healthy diet," she commented playfully and gave him a broad smile.

They were facing the ocean, but in the looming darkness it was hard to tell where the water ended and the sky began.

"Unless someone tampers with it."

His rejoinder sobered her immediately. When she had first opened one of the little boxes they had acquired at the Chinese take-away, she had been surprised about her own appetite. Now, however, she put the food aside.

"Do you really think it was someone working at CSI?" she asked quietly, looking at Horatio's silhouette while waiting for an answer. He had finally taken off his sunglasses for good. At this time, it would have been hard even for him to find a justifiable reason for wearing them. She could see him focusing on the horizon as he was weighing his answer.

"I don't want to," he admitted, discarding his carton as well. "But I don't see many alternatives right now."

"Somehow…" she started, but did not have the heart to finish.

"Hm? Go on."

"I don't know … somehow I still wish it turns out to be an accident. I know that's unlikely," she was quick to add, "But I would prefer that scenario, if I had to choose one."

They stood for a while in silence, each pondering their own thoughts. After a while, Horatio surprised her by saying, "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"For making it a point today that you would not let me handle the hardest facets of this case on my own."

"Is that why we're here?" she wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

 "Well you know, it's just that we don't usually end our working days sharing a bite at the beach," she responded good-naturedly.

"Hmm…" She could hear him smiling. "Maybe it was about time we did." Before she could react to that in any way, he pushed himself away from the car. "Come on, I'll give you a lift home."

To be continued …


	6. The Effects Of Little Things

A/N: I'm not positive about the chemical reactions described herein. If anyone knows better, I'll gladly accept a lesson.

The effects of the poison are described accurately, however. The effects of Horatio on Calleigh are as well :)

I hope you enjoy this. I love writing it. Know what else I like? Feedback.

For disclaimers, rating, etc: see part 1.

**Chapter 6: The effects of little things**

The next morning Calleigh arrived early at the lab. When she entered the interrogation room where the team had unofficially set up camp as long as the rest of headquarters was a crime scene, she was surprised to find Eric and Speed already there.

"Hey guys," she said, depositing the large box she was carrying on the table next to a little worn coffee maker she didn't recognize. The small machine was in use, making a terrible racket but producing fresh coffee. "Who supplied the coffee maker?" she asked curiously.

"I did," Speed volunteered, "Figured we might need it."

"You should have known from the look of that thing. Falls apart while we're watching," Eric teased.

"Yeah?" Speed snapped back, "You don't have to use it, you know? Just don't come begging for a boost."

Quickly, Calleigh opened the lid of the cardboard box she had brought. The sight of pastries and donuts shut her two quarreling colleagues up in an instant.

"Oh man, Cal, you're the best," Speed assured her and helped himself to some fancy cakes.

She gave him a smile and offered the collection to Eric.

Like any ordinary morning, Calleigh thought as she watched her friends. Except for the fact that their seemingly good-natured repartees had a sharp edge to them today, as if both needed to release more than a fair share of tension. Except for the fact that an interrogation room had to serve as a makeshift assembly room. And except for the fact that nothing would make her touch any coffee in the near future.

The fact that both Eric and Speed had arrived before her told volumes as well. She had spent a troubled night, tossing and turning in her bed, only getting a few short hours of restless sleep. And even those had been sprinkled with unpleasant dream images. When she had woken up for the third time and realized it was already beginning to dawn she had decided to forego all attempts at sleeping and get a head start on their case instead. The dark shadows under her friends' eyes and their unusual early arrival confirmed that their experiences tonight had not differed much from hers.

We can pretend all we like, she thought, with coffee and donuts and a few snappy remarks. We're not fooling anyone. We're hurt, and it shows.

"So," Eric was saying, sounding way too matter-of-factly, "what was up with you and H during that phone call yesterday?"

Calleigh had expected that question. "We had an argument," she informed him.

"Yeah, we figured as much," was the dry response.

She sighed. "You know what he's like. He went to see the family of the man who died and I told him I wouldn't let him do that alone. Naturally, he didn't agree," she concluded.

"So did you go with him?"

"In the end I managed to convince him."

"How is Taylor's wife?" Speed wanted to know.

Calleigh shook her head. "What do you expect? Horatio was great, though, promising her we'd find the culprit. I think he really gave her some hope … speaking of him, I assume he's in already?"

"You bet. Was here before any of us checked in. Right now he's on the phone," Speed qualified with a lopsided grin, "verbally turning some IAB guys into minced meat."

"They want to poly everyone," Eric elaborated.

"Again?" Calleigh could not believe it.

Eric shrugged, "Just the night shift, for now. Whoever slipped that poison in the coffee pot – if that's what they did – was opting for quick damage. Alexx has confirmed that. She's come in early, too, with a temporary report. She's going to fill us in as soon as the final test results get here. This case is top priority, so that should be any minute."

"Maybe I better go and get Horatio, then," Calleigh ventured and left too quickly for any objections.

Eric turned to face Speed. "What's that all about now?"

Speed shrugged, reaching for another donut. "Damned if I know. The day I figure out either Calleigh or Horatio, they'll probably appoint _me_ head of the crime lab."

Eric couldn't stifle a grin. "Man, for an achievement like that, they'd hand you the Nobel prize on a plate."

~*~

Calleigh knew it had been a feeble excuse, but she really wanted to speak to Horatio alone before he came in for the status reports of his teammates.

Last night, when he had dropped her off in front of her condo, there had been an awkward moment in the car when none of them had spoken. Finally, he had broken the silence.

"Take care," he had said, his voice low and a little ragged.

"You too," she had answered, turning to reach for the door handle. She had planned on thanking him for the ride, but had never gotten around to doing so. For suddenly, he had reached for her wrist and she had spun around again, startled.

She had never seen that look in his eyes. He had been concerned, yes, but there had been something else, something she had not been able to identify. She had never been less successful at reading his emotions.  A shiver had run down her spine and her heart had missed a beat.

"Really, Calleigh," he had added, his voice barely a whisper, "I mean it. Take care of yourself."

"I will," she had assured him meekly, her gaze alternating between his eyes and his fingers around her arm. What else could she have said?

He had let go of her, and she had instantly felt deprived, though she could not have defined of what.

He had driven off only moments later, but the touch of his hand on hers had lingered.

Now, as Calleigh reached Horatio's office, she felt nervous. She had been right assuming he would retreat to this room for the call. She could sense his presence before she could hear his voice. Approaching the door, she could just make out what he was saying. His voice was calm, apparently in control, and he was speaking slowly. His words, on the other hand, stung like acid.

"No, you do still not understand what my point is. My point is, we have ample evidence on this assault. If you will just refrain from interfering with the investigation, we will solve this case as we have done countless times before. Polying a dozen innocent people will get you no closer to the one who might be guilty than bullying my team will get you closer to doing real police work."

Calleigh heard the receiver being slammed and decided to make an entry. Still, she hesitated briefly in the doorway. Horatio was standing behind his desk, watching the telephone with a cross look on his face, as if daring it to ring again. Looking up, he noticed her. His face lightened up ever so slightly.

"May I come in?" she enquired.

"You may."

"I heard you are harassing IAB officials again," she stated with a smile.

"Did Speed tell you that?"

"Not in so many words," she lied. Seeing right through her, he tilted his head as if trying to hide the smile of his own.

"About yesterday …" she began, and he instantly grew serious again, watching her intently.

"What about it?"

Calleigh braced herself. She had spent half of the night planning this encounter, and now she was not going to back off. Their emotional little scene in the car had shaken her composure and ruffled her confidence, and neither state was one she could use right now. "You scared me," she disclosed.

Horatio instantly looked down again, as if avoiding her eyes equaled avoiding her admission. "I'm sorry," he offered. Both knew it wasn't good enough. Calleigh just continued to stare him down, a technique she had seen him apply countless times. While he slowly made his way around the desk, his hand reached up to the collar of his shirt. Reaching for his sunglasses, Calleigh thought, bearing in mind how he wore them around his neck for quick access when he was working outdoors. Currently, she could see them placed safely on the desk. There would be no hiding for him now.

Or for her, she realized, as she owned up to the fact that he was suddenly standing right in front of her. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Then what _was_ your meaning?" She realized how nervous she sounded.

"When … ahm … when that call came, yesterday," he broke of briefly, raising his eyebrows at the empty space next to her right shoulder, "and they told me there had been an incident at CSI …" he paused again, this time a little longer, "I thought about you. And I was afraid."

Calleigh did not understand. "But …"

"I wasn't rational. I knew it wasn't you, that you would not be there. Still, it was the first thing that came to my mind."

"But why …"

"I care about you, Calleigh. In a lot of ways. And I don't want anything to happen to you. I was very shaken by what has happened. We all were. If I have overstepped any boundaries, I apologize."

Calleigh's head was spinning. _In a lot of ways?_ Overstepping any boundaries? Well, he just had done exactly that hadn't he? In a lot of ways? Could he have been saying …?

She realized he held his hand extended towards her. Timidly, she reached out. His touch was light and warm and lacked the desperate urgency of last night's brief connection. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, caressing her skin for a few short seconds. Calleigh just stared down incredulously.

"Apology accepted?" he asked in a silky voice, trying to draw her eyes to his again.

"Apology accepted," she stated, and they let go of each other with a little handshake, as if that had been the intention behind that touch all along.

~*~

Eric and Speed had succeeded in considerably reducing the contents of the pastry box by the time the door opened again. Tripp entered and held the door ajar for Alexx, who pushed a transparent blackboard on wheels into the room.

"What, you're going to give a lesson?" Speed asked.

Alexx shot him an indecipherable glance. "And not one you're going to like. Where is Horatio?"

"I'm right here," Horatio said, entering with Calleigh in tow. The ballistics experts proceeded to sit down at the table without looking at anyone present. Not even Speed failed to notice that she looked slightly uneasy. About what, he could not have said. There was no time to discuss personal feelings, however, as Horatio had commenced the conference.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, what have we got?" He looked at every single member of his team, some standing, some sitting, everyone alert and focused. "Alexx? Do we have that tox screen?"

"Oh yes, Horatio, we do."

"Fill us in, please?"

Alexx got up, and Horatio sat down next to Calleigh. Uncapping a black felt pen, Alexx began to draw some molecules on the plastic board. With every atom she added to the chain, Horatio's look of incredulity deepened.

Finally, Alexx turned around and looked at the gathered team. "Tox screens have been done on the victims at the hospital as well as Evan Taylor. We did not know what we were looking for, so we checked everything as thoroughly as possible. And we found some substances that definitely qualify as out-of-place." She pointed to the molecule in the left. "That's N-2-carbamoylethylvaline. It has been shown to form from hemoglobin when acrylamide is added." She indicated the other molecule, a bicyclic substance. "N7-2-carbamoylethylguanine. As you can see, a derivative of guanine. Has been suspected to form when acrylamide is present."

"So what does that tell us?" Tripp asked, nonplussed.

"Hemoglobin is a component of blood, guanine is one of the building blocks of DNA," Speed filled him in. "So if we find substances that form when hemoglobin and guanine come into contact with acrylamide …"

"Alexx," Horatio growled, "Are you suggesting our victims have been poisoned with acrylamide?"

"Symptoms are consistent with acrylamide poisoning. As a neurotoxin, it affects the central nervous system, causing loss of orientation and coordination. The most obvious sign is peeling of hands and feet, and the victim will experience numbness in the lower limbs. Often the eyes are affected, too."

"What about long-term symptoms?" Eric asked.

It was Horatio who answered. "Brain damage," he stated darkly.

"If dosage has been high – yes," Alexx confirmed.

"Okay, I get it," Tripp said. "What about accessibility?"

"Easy," Speed explained, "We use it all the time for electrophoresis. Everyone here has access to large quantities of that stuff. Supply cupboards in the labs are packed with it. Also, it's not accounted for. It's used in large quantities, so I can't tell you if anything of it is missing."

"So that doesn't narrow it down."

"No."

Calleigh, who had been unusually silent during the presentation, suddenly spoke up. "But that's a mixture."

Horatio turned toward her. "What do you mean?"

"What we use for electrophoresis – that's not pure acrylamide. We run polyacrylamide gels during electrophoresis, and we use a mixture of bisacrylyamide and acrylamide for polymerization."

"But the stuff's still toxic," Tripp pointed out.

"Yes, but once Eric and Speed have processed the coffee maker for traces, we might be able to rule out our stock. If they only find pure acrylamide …"

Horatio instantly saw her point. "… that would mean it has not come from our labs …"

Calleigh jumped back in, "… which then in turn suggests an outside source."

Horatio got to his feet. "Good thinking, Calleigh. Eric, Speed, you heard her. I want everything processed for traces of acrylamide that has been in the vicinity of the coffee pot. Alexx – good work. Calleigh – we need to get over the victims' activities during that night again. I want a chronological account of everything they did, especially with regard to the coffee consumption. I want to know who had how much at what time. We need to figure out why we have such a variation in the severity of symptoms. Also, I want to know who touched that coffee maker first that night."

"And who was the last one to touch it before then."

Horatio simply nodded.

As the others slowly filed from the room, Calleigh dared to cast a look at him. He was the embodiment of professionalism, even with the fire in his eyes and the excitement visible beneath the surface of his controlled exterior. Seeing him like that, she wondered whether she had only imagined their encounter in his office earlier today, or his brief moment of unmasked emotion in the car last night. This was the Horatio Caine she knew, caring, alert, but always slightly at a distance.

Closing the door, he turned towards her. "Okay, let's get to work on that timeline," he said, and in passing briefly touched her shoulder. The gesture was innocent enough and two days ago, she wouldn't have thought anything of it. But from the way her skin tingled all the way down her spine and from the way he avoided her eyes as if frightened of his own courage, she knew.

She was not imagining things.

To be continued …


	7. Pieces Falling Into Place

A/N: Ok, guys, Valentine's special for you *g* The good news is: This chapter's long. The bad news is: This will be followed by one or two more parts, not to be expected before the next weekend. I'm sorry for not updating sooner, but my exams have started and I'm drowning in work. Today I took that dreaded quantum mechanics exam and – let me phrase that nicely – I didn't exactly shine. So I had to go and buy a "WHO'S – Live in Concert" DVD to lift my spirits. After watching "We won't get fooled again" about ten times, I felt good enough again to revise this chapter and post it.

And this really needs to be said: WoW! THANK YOU everyone at the H/C Yahoo Group and FF.net for reviewing. The feedback I received on chapter six really meant the world to me. I hope you like what I have in store for our favorite characters in chapter 7.

**Chapter 7: Pieces Falling Into Place**

"So, what have you got?"

"Nothing in the good news department," Calleigh qualified, then consulted her notes to fill her boss in. They were in the Hummer once again, heading back to CSI. In order to compose an exact timeline, they had tried questioning the victims again. "Katherine Douglas has already given me a full statement the first time around so nothing new there. Mendy Barton has not yet recovered enough to talk to me. I was able to talk to Peter Atkins this time, but he was rather vague on the events of that night." Actually, he had seemed too confused to even understand her questions. "You?"

"Nothing much either."

Calleigh sighed. "So I guess we'll have to stick to the timeline we derived from the statements we already had."

They had spent most of the morning interviewing the physically unharmed witnesses from night shift once again. Nothing glaringly obvious had been exposed, still no one claimed to have seen anything out of the ordinary. They hadn't really expected any new revelations anyway. The intention behind that second questioning had been the development of a timeline for the actions of the victims, and they had made good progress on that front. Being a faction of generally perceptive people, the CSIs and lab techs had been able to provide them with fairly accurate times for their respective arrivals and break intervals. They had also helped to establish a chronology of events for the victims.

Apparently, Evan Taylor had been the first to use the coffee maker that night. No one had seen him actually brew the coffee, but everyone assumed he had made the first pot. He had downed the first cup himself, then brought some to Florian Stevenson and Vera Haskins. Later, Ellie Winsgate had gotten a cup for herself. As these four showed the gravest symptoms, the timeline made sense. Later, Mendy Barton had brewed new coffee and shared a cup with Peter Atkins and Katherine Douglas. Only a little later the symptoms of the first victims had kicked in, and the crime lab had become a crime scene. No one else had touched any coffee after that.

Horatio and Calleigh had made a second visit to the hospital with the intention to confirm or modify this chronology by means of first-hand accounts, but it had been little more than a waste of time.

And it was doing nothing for Horatio's state of mind to see his coworkers once again in their agony, Calleigh thought. All day, she had been fighting the urge to comfort him. After their encounter in his office earlier today they had both tried their hardest to only ever display professional behavior. Right now, however, in close proximity to him in the car, Calleigh was feeling her composure slip away. Over the course of the last few years, she had somehow become tuned in to him, receptive for his thoughts and moods and – less often, because he carefully guarded them – his emotions. And in the last two days it had seemed to her that their connection had even deepened and she had caught more than the occasional glimpse beneath the surface of his control. But maybe it was just her. Maybe this case was just shattering him to pieces, and he was merely baring himself to her because she simply happened to be there. Maybe this had nothing to do with the way she was feeling about him.

Abruptly, Calleigh chided herself mentally. She was not supposed to embark on that train of thought. Whatever was happening between them was happening only because they were shaken by the attack on the crime lab. It had nothing to do with … anything else.

Horatio pulled the Hummer into the CSI parking lot just then. Calleigh, who had been absorbed in her thoughts, looked up startled.

"We're back at go," she observed surprised just as Horatio killed the engine.

In the following silence, his low-key answer sounded unmistakably clear. One eyebrow raised at the steering wheel, wearing a serious expression, he said quietly, "Oh, but I don't think we are."

~*~

"Wait a minute. What is going on here?" Horatio's expression swiftly shifted from surprise to anger as he recognized the man standing in front of the reception desk. "What are you doing here?"

Calleigh didn't know the stranger, but the undisguised hostility in Horatio's voice made her cautious. Horatio generally disliked people for good reasons.

"What do you think?" The man snapped back. He was wearing an ill-fitting suit and an arrogant expression to match.

Horatio abandoned Calleigh's side. With a few determined strides he covered the distance between himself and the visitor. "Richard, if you have been harassing my team while I was away-"

"Don't worry, Lieutenant, you didn't miss a thing. I'm just getting started."

"No you're not," Horatio told him acidly, "You will take your equipment and your computers and you will leave. Now."

"Look, a crime has been committed and you are still no closer to finding the culprit. Once the media uncovers that this has not been an accident, they'll be all over us. Surely you'll agree we have to get some results, and soon. If you won't let me do my work-"

Horatio cut him short without even raising his voice. "I agree, Richard, that we need to get results, but for the victims and not the media's sake," he said slowly, tilting his head as if eye-contact with this man was too much of a courtesy right now. His voice was superficially calm, but carried undeniably dangerous undertones. "You will not keep interfering with our work. You will not, under any circumstances, poly my team while they're on this investigation."

The pieces dropped into place and Calleigh understood her boss's vehemence. IAB had apparently not backed off yet. They were actually intending to subject the team to a series of embarrassing and humiliating tests while they were working on their hardest case to date. Recalling the last time she had endured that procedure, Calleigh's heart missed a beat. It most certainly had not been an enjoyable experience, even without all the additional stress their actual case added.

Simultaneously, however, a more pleasant layer of memories shifted to the top of her consciousness. Horatio had protected her back then, she recalled. He had backed her up and believed her without a second of doubt. He had firmly placed himself in front of her and the whole team and had supported them without hesitation. And by the looks of it, he was just doing it again.

Calleigh decided it was time to get involved. If Horatio had seemed to be struggling for control before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now. He seemed on the verge of doing something imprudent.

Stepping forward, Calleigh immediately drew the IAB official's attention towards herself. "Maybe I can help," she said, but the offer lacked any generosity, "Calleigh Duquesne," she simply added when the man gave her a questioning look.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Horatio glancing at her. "Don't," his eyes said. She ignored it. He was not in this alone. It was time they fought their battles as the team they were.

"Considering the latest developments, you might want to reconsider your course of action," Calleigh pointed out, struggling not to sound too spiteful. Messing with IAB was a bad idea at the best of times. Especially regarding her previous encounters with them. "A sample just recovered might suggest an outside source. Our trace experts are looking into that right now. Why don't you let them finish their work before you start yours? Why waste manpower and money on an investigation that might not even be necessary at all?"

A moment of silence followed, then the man turned to face Horatio again. "Is that true? Do you really have new evidence?"

The IAB official was physically taller, but it was Horatio who looked down on him. "Isn't that exactly," he asked in a low voice, "what she just said?"

"Of course," the other man replied quickly, even managing to sound offended.

"Then why don't you just take your wires and detectors and leave?" The question was delivered politely, but the affront was not lost on the target.

The two men just stared at each other in silence for a while, one confident and calm, the other disdainful and haughty. Finally, the IAB delegate backed off. Grabbing his suitcase he scoffed, "I'll be back."

Horatio did not even turn to see him leave. "Not if I can help it," he called over his shoulder. Seconds later, they heard the metallic swish of the elevator doors. IAB was gone. For now.

"Can you believe them?" Calleigh asked nonplussed, "Whatever happened to common courtesy?"

Horatio smiled at her outrage. He reached out and gently touched her arm in acknowledgement. "Thanks for the support."

"You didn't need it," she replied with a genuine smile of her own, feeling more light-hearted than she had in days.

"Hey, you're back in. Listen, do you know who that guy was that just passed me?" A bewildered Speed appeared in the hallway, pointing back in the direction of the elevator.

Calleigh extended her smile to him. "We have efficiently chased off IAB again."

"Oh." Comprehension dawned on Speed. "Explains that look of his."

"What's that?" Horatio indicated the bottles Speed was carrying. "Soft drinks?"

Speed gave him a sheepish look. "Yeah, I got some supplies." Almost apologetically, he added, "There's just so much tap water a guy can drink. And everything else in this building has red evidence tape on it, remember?"

All playfulness vanished from Horatio's demeanor in an instant. "Anything on the acrylamide yet?"

"We did a mass spec. Interpretation should be ready any minute."

"Okay. Interrogation room in five minutes."

"You got it."

~*~

Once again the team was gathered in the makeshift meeting room, some sitting, some standing, Horatio positioned at his place at the head of the table.

Eric and Speed just filled them in, taking turns explaining how they had hardly found any traces of acrylamide at all in the coffee maker.

"Problem is, that stuff is easily soluble in water." Eric was just saying. "So we only found minute amounts in the machine itself. But we were lucky with the disposed filters. One of them yielded enough of the substance for analysis. It's our guess that filter was the primary source."

"Did you identify the substance?"

"Yeah, we did," Eric nodded, "definitely acrylamide. And what's more, we only found the monomer."

"Meaning it didn't come from our labs," Calleigh mused.

"Meaning the perp was probably not one of us," Speed added.

Horatio shook his head. He desperately wanted to believe that theory, but he was not ready to jump to any conclusions yet. "Hm. Can we be sure that the poison was not brought in to confuse us?"

"H, give us a little credit," Speed sighed and Eric chimed in, "Yeah, you think that's all we have for you?"

"Go on."

"Remember I said we think the coffee filter was the primary source? Here's what that's based on." Eric held up a plastic bag containing the remains of a drenched and dried coffee filter. "This is the one we found the traces of acrylamide in. We compared it to samples from the break room and – it's not one of ours."

"What do you mean?"

"It's none of the brands we're using. Same applies to the coffee-grounds inside. They don't match the roasted coffee we had in the break room."

If possible, Horatio became even more alert. "So that does leave us with a prepared filter brought in ready with coffee and poison."

"So whoever did that only had to slip into the break room, place the prepared filter in the machine, pour in some water, switch it on and leave. That would have taken less than a minute, even if you didn't know your way around," Calleigh calculated.

The tension in the room grew tangible. Suddenly, the alleged outside source was moving from the realm of possibilities to the reality of evidence-based theory.

Not even Horatio was able to keep the excitement quite out of his voice. "Nice going, guys. Nice going. Have you done paperwork on that?"

"Not yet. We still have to run a reference sample."

"Okay, do that now. I want to be able to present that as evidence as quickly as possible. Calleigh."

"Yes?"

"You and I will have a look at everyone who was here on that night. Suspects, witnesses, anyone who came in here. I want a complete list of names, double-checked with the timeline on the victims' actions. This has top priority."

They all nodded and went on to work on their assigned tasks. Calleigh however could not help but wonder. Was Horatio deliberately keeping her close for the work on this case?

~*~

Calleigh yawned. The letters grew indistinguishable in front of her eyes, and she became dizzy from lack of sleep. Maybe she should get up and turn some more lights on. The room was rather dim.

It was well past midnight and she was the last person at CSI. She had been working her way through case files and visitor pass approvals for hours. She and Horatio had started out working together, but had quickly decided to split up the workload for the sake of efficiency. Soon after Eric, Speed and Alexx had left, Horatio had insisted she follow lead and call it a day. Knowing it was futile to discuss this matter with Horatio in his current state of mind, she had gathered her share of files and bid him a good night. Knowing it was just as futile to go home and try to get some sleep, she had instead turned to the firearms lab to work on. Back in her familiar surroundings for the first time in days, she had filed through the paperwork with new vigor. About an hour ago she had heard the door of the interrogation room opening and closing. Horatio had left.

Good. So she had all of CSI for herself.

She smiled, thinking it was not the first night she spent at the crime lab. With no night shift team around, the place was completely quiet. What might have qualified as scary to others seemed peaceful to her. She was too familiar with these labs and rooms to be afraid of anything there, even in the light of the recent intrusion. Sleep-deprivation was making her feel giddy. There was not a storage room full of nifty weapons right next to her for nothing, she thought with a private grin.

When a shadow fell on her, she almost jumped. Looking up she saw a man stand in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated from behind by the harsh lights in the hallway.

Calleigh scrambled to her feet, knocking over her chair in the process. Before she could so much as think about a plan of attack, the man was striding towards her.

"Calleigh? What are you doing here?"

The sound of his voice registered in her brain and recognition dawned. "Horatio?"

He reached her side and steadied her with a hand at her elbow. Only then did she realize she was shaking. "God, you scared me!" She let out a deep breath, feeling weak in the aftermath of an adrenaline rush.

"I'm sorry," he stated, "Calleigh, what are you doing here?"

The intensity in his voice was uncalled for in her opinion.

"The same as you. Working on the suspects."

"I thought you went home."

"I thought the same about you. I heard you leave the interrogation room."

"I went to my office to work on," he explained off-handedly, brushing the topic aside. "Calleigh, you are not supposed to be here." He finally let go of her arm.

"Why not?"

She had expected him to be protective, to make sure all members of his team got some rest even in the middle of mayhem. She had expected his answer to meander around those lines. She had not expected what was to come.

Horatio's gaze dropped. "This place …" his voice faltered and he hesitated for a moment, "… is not safe anymore. And I don't want you here on you own."

She had to lean in to hear him and in doing so covered some of the distance between them. Their close proximity was doing nothing for her barely regained composure. She didn't even realize she was swaying until Horatio brought his hands up again and took hold of her arms. The touch was light, meant to steady and not to confine, but the gesture was an unusual thing for Horatio to do.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked and she nodded. He did not let go. "You're shaking."

"I was serious when I said you scared me," she repeated lightly, trying to dissolve the tension between them.

She should have known it would never work.

She did not even conjure up the ghost of a smile on his face. Instead, he grew even more serious if that was at all possible. And he still refused to look at her.

When he spoke again, his voice was raspy and he broke of at intervals to raise his eyebrows at something only he could see. "What has happened here was bad enough … without you in the line of fire, Calleigh … it … made me realize … that if something like that happened to you …"

He did not go on and there was no need for him to do so. He just broke off in mid-sentence, and she knew. His earlier words came back to her, and she knew. *I thought about you … and I was afraid.* she could hear him say, and, even more clearly, *I care for you. In a lot of ways.* And suddenly, everything made sense.

The fact that he was working close to her throughout the case, that he never let her out of his eyes. His urgency in the Hummer when he had dropped her off at her condo. She looked up to meet his eyes and the impact of the realization hit with the force of a shockwave.

It was like looking into an emotional mirror.

It was too much.

They could still get out of this, she realized. If they just stopped right now, before anything was admitted explicitly, if they just broke apart before getting any closer, they could blame it all on sleep-deprivation and IAB-induced stress and never speak of it again. Nothing would be destroyed. Nothing would be gained.

Only the silence had gone on a moment too long for such an escape to be still credible.

When Horatio pulled her to him, she did not offer any resistance. She felt his arms wrapped around her and his chin resting lightly on her head and for a moment everything was falling into place and she was entirely at peace with the world. They stood completely still, two quiet figures shutting out their dimly lit surroundings by concentrating exclusively on each other.

And then the moment was past.

Calleigh drew back, startling both Horatio and herself by doing do.

"Cal-"

"I'm sorry," she told him. "It's just-"

"No," he replied quickly, "I am. It's alright, really," he assured her. "Do you want me to give you a lift home?"

Calleigh glanced at the pack of files on the desk, waiting to be sighted. Then she looked back at Horatio and faced a whole package of unresolved emotions waiting to be dealt with.

"I don't think I'm in the frame of mind for sleep right now," she commented dryly.

Her remark actually earned her one of those very rare chuckles Horatio reserved for special occasions. "Then how about …" he grabbed the top file from the table, "we have a look at those together. Would that suit your frame of mind?"

Calleigh considered her options. Spending the night working with Horatio definitely beat spending the night worrying about work and the issue Horatio had become.

She made up her mind and rewarded him with a full-blown smile.

"I think that would work just fine, Handsome."


	8. Choices

A/N: Okay, I know I've been a bad bad fanfic author who did not update for two weeks. Shame on me. But this Real Life thing is not really working for me at the moment, and I couldn't give this fic the energy and time it demanded. I hope you're still with me and solemnly pledge my word that I won't leave this fic hanging in mid-story. But my general situation has not improved much, time-wise, and it's my birthday next week, so I guess it will be weekend again before you see the conclusion to this. Please accept my apologies.

To everyone who reviewed – THANK YOU (ß this is one damn heart-felt thank you, in case you didn't notice). Your reviews really cheered me up and urged me to write on. They also showed me I haven't gone completely astray with this story. So once again: thank you!

And do I even need to say this? CSI Miami is still not mine *breaks down sobbing*.

**Chapter 8: Choices**

Calleigh was having trouble concentrating. Of course she was exhausted, sleep-deprived even, and her uneasiness could be blamed on that – at least partly. But part of it was caused by a more complex source of distraction than simple fatigue.

It was not the first night she spent at CSI, but she couldn't help thinking that it was a completely different affair this time around.

Last time, John Hagen had insisted on watching over her, and she had not declined the offer for reasons she could not really fathom anymore. She had finished her work and finally fallen asleep on the couch in the break room, all the while under close scrutiny from the detective. It had been an awkward situation. There had been some attempts of conversation, but they had been fruitless to say the least. Calleigh had realized that something was building between her and John Hagen at the time, but had also been keenly aware of the fact that it would be nothing profound, nothing subtle and nothing with any deeper meaning. Nothing lasting either, for that matter.

This time, everything was different, down to that very last detail.

Horatio had simply accepted her plan to work all night and offered his company and help. And it was no comparison at all. John Hagen had lost the race by miles, and Horatio was not even competing.

They had retreated to the more comfortable surroundings of Horatio's office and were seated next to each other behind his desk. Both had a stack of paper in front of them, but staying focused on the work was getting harder by the second. Calleigh stifled a yawn for the third time in as many minutes. And it did not escape her notice how Horatio ran a shaky hand across his eyes. He had probably gotten even less sleep than she had in the past few days. A thought struck her. Maybe this was not the first night he spent working on this case.

Had he ever left the crime lab these days?

"Calleigh?" His voice stopped her musings. "Have a look at this."

"What is it?" She looked up to see him extending a folder to her. She reached out instinctively, but he did not let go of it. They ended up holding the file between them, leaning in closer towards each other, their shoulders and arms touching ever so slightly. Calleigh absorbed the facts quickly.

"A visitor's pass approval," she said, a hint of question in the statement.

"Hm-mh. A visitor's pass approval for one Gary Preston. And now…" Horatio elaborated, "…have a look at this." He pointed out a detail.

"He works at Tetra Office." Comprehension dawned on Calleigh. "Don't they process paper products?"

"Yes they do," Horatio confirmed, eyebrows raised, "They process and produce paper products, office supplies mainly, but also cellulose components for packaging material and – if I'm not mistaken – coffee filters."

Calleigh was wide awake in an instant. "And isn't acrylamide used as a strengthener in the paper-making process?"

Horatio nodded gravely. "Hm. Let's see what Preston was here for."

"You got the case number on this?" Calleigh wanted to know, already claiming the keyboard of Horatio's office computer. Horatio read out the combination of figures and letters and Calleigh punched in the numbers with new vigor. Horatio leaned in closer to read the appearing text over Calleigh's shoulder. She was keenly aware of him right next to her, but the case description demanded full emotional concentration for the time being. She gave a short outline while she was perusing the data.

"It's a closed case. Night shift worked it. Serial rape-murder. Gary is listed as a relative of one of the victims, Clara Preston."

Horatio read along with Calleigh. "Clara was his sister and the third of four victims. So that gives us …"

"A motive," Calleigh concluded. "Or at least a link. Not to mention…"

"…means and opportunity," Horatio finished for her. They looked at each other for a moment, silently pondering this latest development.

Finally, Calleigh suggested, "I get Tripp, you get a warrant?"

Horatio shook his head. "We don't have enough for a warrant. Preston was here on the night of the crime, but so were dozens of other people. And his workplace is not conclusive enough in itself. Let's bring him in first, see what he can tell us."

"I get Tripp, you get coffee?" Calleigh tried again.

The ghost of a smirk appeared on Horatio's face for a split second and Calleigh wondered if he, too, was recalling a former occasion when they had been working late and he had brought her coffee. "How about this," he was just saying, "You get Tripp, I get the Hummer."

"Are we going to accompany him to our suspect?"

Horatio hesitated briefly. Then he got up and began heading for the door, carefully avoiding eye-contact again. "Not exactly."

 "Then where are we going?"

He didn't turn around to answer, as if he were really addressing the door instead of her. "Just trust me on this."

~*~

The warm water pouring down on her was sheer bliss. Calleigh stretched her tired limbs and enjoyed the sensation of soothing liquid on her skin. It was amazing how much a simple shower could do to restore her energy.

She had been reluctant at first. Unwilling to intrude on anything. Not quite prepared to topple the precarious balance they had established.

Then again, the offer had been too tempting to try and resist.

She had called Tripp and filled him in on the latest news. The detective had instantly been awake and alert and had promised to bring Preston in for interrogation first thing in the morning. After the phone call, Calleigh had realized there was nothing left to do for the two of them for another couple of hours. Horatio had planned ahead, though, it seemed.

"We still have some time before the action starts," he had observed, "Can I tempt you with a scrumptious breakfast?"

She had beamed at him, and that had been answer enough.

"We can go to my place, that's closer than yours." He had been talking just a little too quickly, as if he was afraid of a negative answer. "I happen to make a mean breakfast and my coffee maker sure beats Speed's."

She had not answered right away. She had never been to his place, and it seemed like a huge offer suddenly. In the end, she had gotten her supply of spare clothes from the locker room and followed him to the Hummer.

And now she was in his bathroom, his shower even, while he was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. "Feel free to use everything you need," he had told her. "Remember, I would know if you didn't – it's my job."

The comment made her smile in retrospect. She turned off the water and grabbed the thick white towel Horatio had put there for her. She changed into her clothes and draped her damp hair over her shoulders. Digging through her boss's cupboards for a hair-dryer was hardly an option. Sneaking through his personal belongings was even further out of the question, especially considering his line of work. But there was one thing she could not have resisted for the life of her.

Without even thinking much about it, Calleigh reached for a small bottle on the shelf beneath the mirror. Uncapping the flask, she inhaled the now familiar scent of Horatio's aftershave. She could not even have counted the number of different emotions that ran through her at the fragrance, and she felt overwhelmed. Suddenly, everything seemed surreal. The case, the sleepless night and the dangerous path she was treading with Horatio mingled to one great bundle of emotional turmoil.

Until two days ago – three by now, to be precise – she had strictly admired Horatio from afar, telling herself that whatever connection she felt between them might be one-sided. She had been forever unsure about whether she was the only one to be captivated by an ineffable attraction between them. Captivated by him, to be completely honest. She loved his righteousness, his protectiveness, the way he always put everybody else first. She loved his shrewd mind and his rare smiles, she loved the way he moved and the way he looked at her when no one else was present. In Horatio's light, even John Hagen had been able to shine for a few illusion-driven moments.

And Horatio had been forever hard to read. He had shown her signs of affection and caring more often than not, but had never pushed the invisible barriers between them aside – not even playfully. And Calleigh had not dared to risk what they had for something they might not be meant to share. At least not until she had a clearer idea about his feelings for her.

She had gotten her answer over the course of these past few days. Or had she?

More confused, but physically restored she left the bathroom and found her way back to the living room. Horatio was standing at the counter to the adjoined kitchen and gave her one of his special smiles. He had changed into a dark blue shirt which brought out the color of his eyes. The tips of his hair were still damp, as were hers, and some strands refused to stay in place, giving him a slightly tousled look she found absolutely delectable.

"Feeling better?"

"Almost human again," she answered truthfully. "Can I help you?"

"No, it's all taken care of." He beckoned her to sit down.

Calleigh seated herself at the carefully laid table and took in her surroundings. Through the big windows to her left she could see the ocean rolling on in the first rays of sunlight. The view was breathtaking.

Horatio appeared at her side and – with a grand gesture – placed a plate of various sliced fruits in front of her.

"Oh my gosh." Calleigh was impressed. "Is this your standard pep breakfast for loyal coworkers?"

"Only for those who sacrifice their sleep to crack a case."

"I really hope we did." Calleigh said, helping herself to some toast. "I couldn't stand to think it was one of us."

Horatio did not answer, but she had obviously hit a nerve. Before his mood had time to darken again, she changed topics. "You have a beautiful place here. The view is adorable."

"It sure is today," Horatio answered, never once taking his eyes off her.

~*~

When Horatio and Calleigh checked back in to CSI, the rest of the team had already arrived. Tripp had brought Preston in and had informed the team about their suspect.

"When did you say Calleigh called you?" Speed asked for the third time.

Frank Tripp shrugged. "Almost five this morning. Woke me up. I was just in time to get our guy on his way to work."

"And she was calling from headquarters?" Speed didn't let go. "What was she doing, working at five in the morning?"

"I don't know," Tripp told him, "Just told me she and Horatio had new info on our suspect and chased me off to get the guy."

"So she was with H? Then where are they now?" Eric wanted to know.

"Beats me," Speed admitted. "Probably gone cracking the case without us," he moped.

"What, you're not getting enough of the limelight?" Eric teased.

"Hey, I'm just wondering what's going on with those two. They're my friends. I have a right to be concerned."

"I think nosy is the word you were looking for."

"You can ask them in a minute, guys, they just arrived," Alexx informed them with a glance through the glass door.  
If anyone on the team found it strange that Calleigh and Horatio arrived together they didn't show it. They did voice their curiosity about the progress on the case, though. Horatio filled them in with a few quick words.

"Now here's what I want you to do. Speed, compare the coffee filter we found to the brands Tetra Office produces. Eric, see if the acrylamide they use matches the chemical signature of the trace evidence you processed. We don't have a warrant, so ask them nicely for a sample. And we…" he looked at Calleigh and Tripp, "… I believe we have a suspect to interview."

~*~

Gary Preston was in his mid-fifties, slightly on the small side and obviously terrified by the fact that he was being interrogated.

Tripp was standing behind him, Calleigh was positioned slightly off-center to his right and one very short-tempered Horatio paced the floor directly in front of him. Preston clutched the corner of the table with trembling hands.

Horatio was in no mood for playing nice. Faced with the alleged perpetrator in one of the most personal, most emotionally demanding cases of his career, he had some difficulty controlling his usually even temper. His anger was welling beneath the surface of his composure, and he was speaking through gritted teeth. The polite questions were delivered with biting sharpness.

"What exactly is your job at Tetra Office, Mr. Preston?"

"I supervise logistics and transport."

"You supervise logistics and transport. Tell me, do you have access to the main processing plant?" Horatio demanded.

"Yes, of course."

"The storage rooms and warehouses?" Tripp stipulated.

"Well, yes, but…"

Horatio didn't give him time to specify his answer. "Were you here at CSI on the night of the 10th?"

"Yes, but…"

"What did you want?"

Preston ran an unsteady hand through his hair. His eyes took on a watery sheen. His voice sounded hollow. "My sister …" He never finished the sentence.

"We know about your sister," Calleigh informed him. "But her case was closed a week ago. You were no longer a witness. You had no reason to be here."

"I asked … for an appointment. I wanted … to thank them for finding out who did that to Clara…"

"Wrong," Horatio interrupted him. "You wanted to take out your anger on them. See, I just called the officer who worked your case and he told me …" Horatio inched closer to the suspect, "He told me that you were accusing them, that you were blaming Clara's death on CSI. Now, do you want to try again?"

Something in Preston's features shifted, and his insecurity gave way to hatred in the span of time it took him to breathe. He stood up and came around the table towards Horatio. Tripp sprang to action the same instant, ready to hold him back. He was not needed, however. Horatio raised his chin and stopped Preston with one steely look. Watching the stand-off, Calleigh felt every fiber in her body stiffen.

"Do you know what it's like, losing someone you love?" Preston challenged. If possible, Horatio's icy look grew more lethal. Preston ranted right on. "Her death was unnecessary. The guy who did that to her, that scum – he did it before. If you hadn't taken forever analyzing the samples or whatever it is you do, you could have nailed him before he got to Clara."

"So you decided to poison the entire CSI staff," Horatio concluded coldly.

"No. I would never want someone to die."

"But someone did."

"I didn't know." Preston's shoulders slumped. "I knew that stuff was toxic. They gave me all these safety instructions when I started on the job but … I … I thought it'd cause nausea, give them a headache. I never thought it'd cause serious harm."

"You never thought it would cause serious harm. You spiked a prepared coffee filter with a neurotoxin, a substance that causes severe brain damage and loss of sensory control and you never thought it would cause serious harm." Horatio recounted, anger lacing every word.

Provoked by his tone, Preston charged once more. "So what if I did? They deserved it. They didn't do their job. I'm glad they got what they deserved."

"They did their job. These things take time." Tripp told him heatedly.

Calleigh felt her own temper rise. With uncharacteristic ferocity she asked, "The man who died had nothing to do with Clara's case, but he had to bear the brunt of your anger. Do you think he got what he deserved? Did you know that he leaves a young wife and a little child? What about them? Did they get what they deserved?"

Preston instantly focused his attention on her. "What would you know of my anger? What would you know about the anger of someone who's lost their sister?"

Horatio stepped in, blocking Calleigh from Preston's view. "I know the anger of someone who's lost a brother. And let me tell you something. There are two choices for angry people. But only one of them wears a badge." He nodded to Tripp. "Take him away."

As soon as Tripp had led Preston from the room, Calleigh turned to Horatio. His teeth were still gritted, his posture still taut. His hands were clenched into fists. Calleigh tentatively reached out and squeezed his arm. She could feel him trembling under her touch.

"Horatio?"

It seemed to cost him the strength of a lifetime to turn his head and look at her.

"It's over now," she told him. "We got him. _You_ got him."

He nodded slowly, as if his body was refusing to acknowledge what his mind had already registered. Calleigh tried to read the variety of emotions in his eyes. He was angry beyond words, but also relieved that the perp had not come from their ranks. And there was also something else in his eyes she couldn't quite identify. He regarded her intensely, as if he was trying to figure something out about her.

Then, in slow motion, he reached out for her and drew her close. His embrace was tight, as if he had to reassure himself that she was real and unharmed. He buried his face in her hair and ran a shaky hand across her back. Calleigh was too surprised to say anything, and they simply stood like that in silence for a while, Horatio hanging on to her for dear life.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hardly audible. "If he had gotten to you … I would have killed him."

Calleigh broke the embrace and held him at arm's length. "But he didn't. I'm right here, Horatio."

He nodded, but did not answer. Instead, he took her face in both hands. Pulling her to him, he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "Yes, you are," he simply said, then turned around and left the room.

Calleigh stayed back, completely at a loss for words.

It was her turn to start trembling.

To be continued…


	9. In Conclusion

A/N: Uh … long time, no see. I know. I'm awfully sorry. I could give reasons for that, there are plenty of them. Only most of them aren't very interesting and the rest is rather private. Let's just say that, for a while, I was not in the right mood to write this, and I wanted the finale to be perfect.

Apart from that, the usual disclaimers still apply, if anyone still remembers them :)

**Chapter 9: In Conclusion**

The day crept by as if in slow-motion. Whenever Calleigh checked her watch, only five or six minutes had passed. Now that Preston had been hauled away, everyone was confined to doing paperwork on the case, as IAB demanded a thorough report. Instead of being relieved about seeing the case solved – and with no criminal involvement of a CSI member at that – IAB seemed to feel slighted by the fact that they never even got around to using their up-to-the-minute detection systems on someone's pulse and respiration.

The headquarters had been restored to normal, the evidence tape been removed and the makeshift assembly room in the interrogation chamber had been abandoned in favor of the respective labs and offices.

Speed and Eric had done most of the actual processing, so they had retreated to face the load of paperwork awaiting them.

Alexx was in the morgue, cleaning up and finishing on her report on Evan Taylor.

The lab techs were slowly filing in again, taking over their workplaces once more, trying to continue their tasks where they had left off.

Horatio was probably in his office, writing down the facts of the tragedy in words sober enough for IAB to digest them.

Calleigh wanted nothing more than to go see him. At the same time, she wanted nothing more than to hide from him. She glanced at her watch once more, trying to decide whether she could justify taking a break yet.

11.30 a.m., not even two hours since Tripp had led Preston away. Two hours since the case had been closed, and already normality was threatening to take over again. Calleigh understood the need for everyone to get on with their work, their lives … but personally, she couldn't.

Things had changed.

It was not only the subdued feeling of apprehension and mourning that hang around the place like a tangible fog of fear. Someone had walked in and poisoned them. People could not be expected to feel safe again just because the attack itself was in the past. Naturally, the aftereffects would linger on.

But that was not the heart of the matter.

There were also some matters of the heart to be considered. It definitely qualified as inappropriate to even remotely ponder these thoughts at a time like this, but Calleigh couldn't help thinking of Horatio's behavior towards her over the course of the last few days.

Had he been shaken by the case to a degree that had prompted him to reach out for her and allow her some insights she would not have been able to extract from this highly private person in any other set of circumstances? In other words, had he leaned on her because she was there? Or had the catastrophe around them simply acted as a means to expose his feelings for her as a person? Was she really the target of his concerns and affection the way he had indicated she was?

It was time she found out.

She was still considering leaving her place of escape in firearms when a voice sounded from the doorway.

"Knock, knock."

"Horatio," she acknowledged his presence with a smile, but couldn't help feeling defensive all of a sudden. His timing, as always, was impeccable. Had he guessed she'd been thinking about him?

"Calleigh?" He immediately abandoned the doorway and gave her an open look. Expectant.

She felt insecure for no apparent reason and tried to hide it behind a purely professional demeanor. "What is it?"

"Can I convince you to get out of here for a moment?"

She didn't even know herself what made her hesitate. "I'm not finished here." She tried to look apologetic, but to Horatio she probably seemed evasive.

He edged closer to her desk, carefully, as if he was crossing more than a physical distance.

"Is this for IAB?" he asked, nodding towards the folders she had stashed there.

"Yes, it is. Look, Horatio …"

He cut her short. "Calleigh, I really think paperwork can wait. This can't."

She blinked, curiosity getting the better of her. "Horatio, what are you talking about?"

He held her gaze. "Us."

~*~

"What's there to see?"

"Hm."

"Earth to Delko. What is it?"

Eric shifted in front of the window and gave Speed a puzzled look. "Horatio and Calleigh."

"What about them?"

"They just left."

"Come on, they just checked back in a couple hours ago."

"And now they're taking off again," Eric insisted. Grumpily, Speed got up from the table and walked to the window. He was just in time to see the Hummer depart from the CSI parking lot.

He leaned against the window frame and crossed his arms. "And you're sure it was them?"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Actually, no. Could have been anyone driving off in Horatio's car."

"You can save the sarcasm for someone who appreciates it, you know."

Eric shrugged in place of an answer. After a moment of silence, Speed returned to the desk where he had been sitting. "I'm just wondering what's up with them."

"How do you mean?"

"You know," Speed mused, "from what Tripp told us, they apparently spent the night here." He vaguely gestured towards the table as if their boss and his ballistics expert had camped out on the desk. "Still they're not here when Tripp arrives with the suspect they chased him after. They help make an arrest, and next thing you know, they're heading off again before anyone gets the chance to speak to either of them."

Eric nodded. "Yeah. Something's going on with them."

Speed regarded the paperwork in front of him and considered. It took him mere moments to reach a decision. "Feel like grilling Alexx about it?"

Eric looked at his friend for an instant. Then, completely earnest, he said, "Best idea you had all day."

~*~

Calleigh turned to him with a look that clearly said "so talk". Horatio seemed not so sure about what to say anymore. Deep down she had agreed that staying at headquarters in the aftermath of the hurricane was not helping things. But if this was the alternative she might have been better off at the crimelab. This might be "neutral territory", but it still scared her with all the implications it carried.

Horatio had steered the Hummer through the light midday traffic with ease and – more importantly – in complete silence. At first, Calleigh had thought he was biding time, cruising around aimlessly, but then she had realized his intended destination.

The beach.

That beach.

The one they had driven to on the very first day of the case, when Horatio had first let his distant business-manner slip. Had that only been days ago? It seemed like ages.

The last time they'd been here, they had stayed by the car in the parking lot set slightly above the beach, overlooking the ocean and the sunset.

This time, Horatio obviously intended to walk down to the beach, so Calleigh followed.

She realized he had chosen the location last time, as he had chosen it today. Was there a reason behind this choice of scene?

"Calleigh …" he stopped short at her name and shot her a quick sideways glance as if to judge her reaction. He didn't continue, though, so they just walked on in silence.

The beach was quiet, almost empty. It was a beautiful place, all white sand and rolling waves. Horatio was scanning the place seemingly absent-minded. The sun was high in the sky, and he was squinting. Calleigh almost stalled when she realized he was not wearing his trademark sunglasses.

This could be a good sign or a bad, but it definitely carried some significance. She could not recall a single occasion on which Horatio had not donned his shades the minute he got outside. Her musings were interrupted when Horatio spoke up again.

"I usually come here alone."

"You do?" she asked, surprised by the fact that he offered forth information about himself.

"Sometimes. After cases."

She understood what he was saying. After cases. After those that were worse than the rest. Like now.

"Does it help?" she wanted to know.

He didn't answer right away. Instead he reached out for her and stopped her progress with a hand on her arm. He didn't remove his hand even as she finally stood facing him. "The ocean doesn't. But …" he broke off for a second, as if he had to gather all his strength to talk on, "… it does help me think of you. And that helps."

Calleigh looked from his face to his hand on her arm. She wanted to say something, anything, but words escaped her.

"Calleigh … if I have overstepped any boundaries, I'm sorry. But…"

She cut him short. "Don't give me an explanation, Horatio. None is needed."

He seemed to ponder this statement and all the implications for a moment. Then, still hesitatingly, he raised his hand from her arm to her face and tentatively cupped her cheek. Tilting his head, he inched a little closer to her. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible.

"Calleigh, stop me, or this is going to happen."

She didn't move or say a word, but still he hesitated half-way towards her, searching her eyes for any trace of doubt or rejection.

When their lips finally touched, it was almost too much. This had been building for months and was now threatening to overwhelm them both.

Calleigh was vaguely aware of the fact that both his hands were on either side of her face now, and she registered that she was holding on to him as well, but other than that, conscious thoughts eluded her. The kiss intensified, becoming more passionate, and she leaned in to him covering the distance between them completely. His arms came up behind her back and he pressed her to him, as if he still had to reassure himself that she was really there.

When they finally broke apart, Calleigh knew something had been irreversibly shifted. Whatever else happened, things would not be the same after today. This was huge, and almost a little frightening.

Neither of them seemed to be willing to speak first, so finally Horatio settled for just taking her into his arms again. Holding her tight, he rested his chin on her head. Calleigh closed her eyes and leaned in to him. Finally something felt right.

~*~

"You won't believe this," Eric told Speed and Alexx, snapping the mobile shut. "That was H again – guess what?"

"They're not checking back in today?" Alexx suggested with a half-smile.

"How do you know?" Eric was stunned.

"You're somehow in on this, right?" Speed chimed in.

They had sought out Alexx to see if she could offer any information on the strange behavior of Horatio and Calleigh. They had cornered the ME in the morgue, but before they could squeeze any info out of her, Eric's cell phone had interrupted the interrogation.

"I don't know anything more than you do, boys," Alexx now explained with a grin, "but I wouldn't be surprised at all if we had to get used to getting a lot more calls like that in the future."

"You mean about them not checking back in?"

"No, I mean one of them calling on the behalf of both of them."

There was a moment of silence. Then, Alexx could have sworn she heard the pieces falling into place. The way her two colleagues were suddenly staring at each other open-mouthed spoke volumes. After all, they *had* been hired on account of their good abilities of deduction. Alexx kept grinning.

"Oh, come on, I knew there was … something … going on with them, but you're not suggesting they're …" Speed said, surprise getting in the way of adept articulation.

Eric was not much more eloquent at the moment. "Nah, come on. They're not … they couldn't … I mean, we'd know if they did."

"Then what would you two suggest is going on?" Alexx countered.

Speed scoffed. "They're probably just working on something else."

Alexx couldn't help laughing at the comment. "I guess that's one way of putting it, Timmy." Giving each of her friends a teasing pat on the shoulder, Alexx headed for the exit, leaving two completely stunned CSIs in the empty morgue.


	10. Epilogue: Revived

A/N: This is a "spot-the-difference" kind of chapter. See if you can find the variation … No, honestly, Horatio wanted to have a say in this, so I let him have it his way. Who am I to argue with the voices of fictional characters in my head?

**Epilogue: Revived**

We're in the shower again.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined sharing a shower with Calleigh. It's all the notion promises, and more. I finish disentangling some strands of her wet hair with my fingers, and she turns around to face me.

I can't help but seize her up again. Never will I ever get enough of looking at her in all her beauty. Never will I stop marveling at the fact that she's mine.

Of course she notices the look. My eyes are all over her.

"Taking an inventory, Handsome?" she teases with a smile.

"Hmm …" I offer, smiling as well. I'm not so much taking an inventory as letting my eyes start what my hands are sure to finish.

"Like what you see?" she sasses.

In place of an answer, I pull her towards me. Leaning into her, my lips are inches from her ear, so I lower my voice to a murmur, "I do." I can feel her tense in excitement at the sound of my voice, an effect I will never quite understand, but never question either. I know she's coming undone, I can feel her shiver against me, but I'm not ready to give in to the pleasure right yet. "Know what I like best?" I ask, and I feel her shake her head. Too excited to speak or not trusting her voice? I like either thought.

I allow my lips to brush against her cheek, then slowly kiss my way up to her temple. I plant a kiss on her forehead and answer my own question. "Your mind."

I know she's getting my meaning. I'm not diminishing her beauty, if such a thing were even possible. She's the most beautiful person on earth to me, but all the beauty in the world is nothing if it's not fuelled by a beautiful spirit. Such as hers: independent and vibrant, strong and intelligent, but also caring and gentle and giving.

I could not pinpoint the exact moment when I realized I was in love with her. I have always been fascinated with her. But with every day I spent with her, with every facet of her personality I discovered, with every glance and smile and touch between us I have become addicted to her. The last few months, it's been almost unbearable.

I've done a great job hiding it. At first, that is.

Last year, though, things almost got out of control. I remember occasions when we were on the job together when I almost felt the air crackle with electricity between us. It happened at the most inappropriate moments. I recall working on a sniper case with her. She joined the SWAT team when they charged, and I had to let her out of my sight. The moment she told me they had the shooter in sight, I walked right into the line of fire without hesitation. I had wanted the killer's full attention on me, not her. I wanted her to be safe, no matter at what cost.

It was probably later that day, when I had returned home alone, that I finally faced the fact that I was falling in love with Calleigh.

Still I never told her.

Reasons were plentiful. I was afraid she would reject me, of course, but in a way I was more afraid she wouldn't. So when feelings became too strong to hide, I decided to run.

All those past few months, I teamed her up with everyone but myself. I distanced myself from her, from the team, from everything that connected us. I spent less time in the lab, less time at headquarters. I tried to cut all bonds between us, I tried to find fulfillment in the little family I had left, but to no avail.

I couldn't have foreseen the way things turned out. I would never have imagined my feelings to be returned. Part of me still refuses to believe it.

So now I reassure myself by kissing Calleigh again. I was apparently right with my earlier assessment about the degree of her excitement – she responds passionately. We lose our precariously established balance and threaten to stumble against the tiled wall. Instinctively, I reach out for something to hold on to, and in doing so accidentally turn off the water. Calleigh lifts her head.

"Shower's over?" she asks, looking at me expectantly. I could love her forever just because of that look, full of love and eagerness.

"Mhm…" I growl in agreement, "I think we can find something else to do."

We manage to disentangle long enough to make it to the bedroom. I stop on the way to grab the bottle of wine we haven't finished earlier this evening. When I reach the bedroom, Calleigh has already taken possession of my bed. Sprawled across the covers, dressed in nothing but a towel, she is quite a sight.

She notices my approving smile. Playfully, she says, "Why don't you just tell me how beautiful you think I am?"

"Hm," I smile, "Why don't I just come over and show you?"

"I like the way you think, Handsome."

~ The End ~


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